the glorious art of staining souls, my darling
by Lady Shaye
Summary: He caused this. He has to fix this. / He can give her one last good dream. / Tag to 2x2, "Brave New World."


A/N 1: I've become quite obsessed with Doctor Who lately, I'm super sorry to all my readers. And I'll be quite busy for the next long while, but I hope you'll all forgive me if I take a temporary leave of absence. Also, next chapter of my zombie story should be up soon! It might very well be my last update for a long time. *GASP* Omg that scares me. But anyway. I don't know how often I'll be on for a while, but rest assured that I love you all! And thank you!

A/N 2: Okay, so, not gonna lie. This is pretty dark Damon introspection. Dark. Darkity dark dark, that's dark, that is. I'm sorry, I'm playing with words again. Anyway, so I've had this lying around in a tattered old binder for several months and just found out and went OMG WTF I THOUGHT I LOST THIS YAY MY DAY IS MADE. And after that I set about to editing it and completing it as best I could, but I don't even really know if there is an ending for this. I'm not really sure, but this was a good as it got.

A/N 3: Yeah, so, this was gonna be my holidays present to you all. Nope. Internet crashed and I had to retype the whole thing and I didn't have time, so I thought, I'll do it later and it'll be my New Year's present. Um, no. Friends + alcohol = no updates. So sorry, guys. But I hope you like this! Sorry for all the author notes.

Tag to 2x2, "Brave New World."

Daroline, T, and no, I do not own. Sigh.

* * *

_the glorious art of staining souls, my darling_

—H.I.M., "Pretending"

* * *

His hand is on her arm, feeling the cold of her skin even through her sleeve. Because there is no blood running through her veins anymore, nothing to grace her body with warmth. And he knows in his soul (or what's of it, anyway) that _he did this_. He _caused_ this.

And then she shoves him off of her, and consequently down the hallway. He's rubbing his leg and wincing, and she's smirking. And since when did their situations become reversed?

She is the girl that he swore would never be a vampire. He bit her and hurt her, but he never gave her his blood, because she is too _bright_ and _loving_ and _forgiving _and _human_ to be a heartless, maybe even soulless creature of the night like him. He'd rather let her die, watch her die, make her die, than see her become this. Because even though he advertises the carefree part of it: the blood, the girls, the sex, the immortal unchanging body—the truth is that even he knows that this is an awful way to spend forever, pretending to be human and trying not to be too evil.

She doesn't deserve this eternity of desolation and destruction and loneliness that consumes your soul.

And her brightness, her inner light shining through even now, her _endurance_ cannot survive this darkness, this eternity of blood and bodies and blame. This he knows. Personally.

He has to fix this.

He has to save what's left of her, and her remaining humanity, and everything else he ever wanted her for. He has to preserve what's left of that inner light inside of her, so bright that even he can see it (and damn is he blind).

He has to find a stake first.

* * *

"Just help me," she says, shaking visibly. Her trembling makes him quiver too (involuntarily) as he gathers her into his arms (willingly, resignedly). Or maybe it's him that's shaking too? He doesn't know. He hopes not, because he's supposed to be the emotionless one, remember?

Right.

So he holds her and rubs her back as he lines a stake up for her heart. And he gives her a vision, because she's a baby vamp and he can manipulate her pretty little vampire mind easily and without permission. He can give her one last good dream, maybe to make up for the all the bad ones he's given her before.

"Okay," he whispers, raising the stake, and they both slip into the dream.

* * *

They're lying on the ground at the beach, which is totally her preference because this is _her_ dream. He's just giving her control of it now—or rather, he's letting her subconscious have a minor amount of control, anyway. It's an empty beach, and the waves are gray and crashing in the dim moonlight of the fierce night. Some stars are out, but not many, and the ocean makes a soft, soothing sound in the background, like ballroom music when all your life you've only ever heard rock—like silence when for the longest time all you've been able to hear is someone planning, or complaining, or making out. (Which is basically Mystic Falls wrapped up in a nutshell, who knew.)

"Never woulda pegged you for a loner on the beach," he finally says, shifting over on the sand to face her on his side. They're flat on their backs, side by side, sand burying itself in their clothes and the waves only a couple of feet away, washing up on the shore constantly like a soundtrack to her death. (The clarity of this dream is amazing, he's got to give her imagination credit. Even in her dreams, she's a neurotic control freak, intent on the amount of detail to be clear and amazing.)

After a few seconds of silence, he adds, "No partying instead?"

She shrugs. "Had enough parties lately. Besides, if there was one, I'd be the one organizing it."

"Even in your dreams?" _Where you shouldn't have to do anything? Especially if it's your last one ever?_

The question earns him another equally vague shrug. A pause of silence. "This is nice," she says after a moment, over the soft roar of the water. "For once, for the first time since I just woke up, I'm not hungry—or thirsty—or whatever the hell _it _is." She eyes him carefully, analyzing him for the millionth time (he wouldn't mind it so much if they were under the covers again, but, you know, you can't have everything). "You still suck, you know."

He smiles weakly at her, as close to human as he will get around her. "Yeah, I know."

"You know _why_, don't you?" she presses.

"Yes."

"Then you should know that…that I can understand some of it, sort of. Your decisions."

He blinks. This is _her_ dream, right? Because there is no way in reality that she should be—well, not exactly _forgiving_ him, but—_understanding_ him. That could only ever be in his dreams…so why is it in hers? "How the hell is that, Blondie?" he asks dryly, to cover his confusion.

Damn. He'd meant to say something with a bit more tact. But tact has never been his strong suit, anyway.

She stifles a laugh at his outburst. "Because," she says. "I get the cravings now. I kinda want a little blood toy of my own, sort of?" She sounds unsure, then continues, becoming more serious: "Of course, on a more personal level, that doesn't mean I can just be _friends_ with you or whatever. I'll come to you with questions about being a vampire, and you'll give me advice." She regards him slyly. "At the most, you owe me that. You tried to _kill_ me, after all."

Oh. He…he thought he was being obvious. With the "one last dream" and all.

"Why do you think we're having this dream together?" and he'd swear that his voice temporarily cracks.

She shrugs yet again. "So you can explain this whole 'vampire'—" she wrinkles her nose in distaste "—thing to me, vaguely, in a peaceful, quiet environment? I don't know. I've stopped trying to figure out how your mind works, Damon. Ever since these memories started flooding in…" she waves her hand in some gesture to convey her confusion. "I don't know anything anymore except what I think I am now, and what I _know_ you are, and that you hate yellow strapless dresses. My dad bought that one for me." She sounds almost indignant.

God.

_She thinks she's gonna survive this. She's _joking_, for God's sakes. Joking with me._ This task suddenly seems a million times harder than it already was. "I'm so sorry," he says carefully. She's so…innocent. And that's exactly what he intends for her to keep. Her innocence, her humanity.

And for that she needs to die.

Her face screws up, confused again, and she tilts her head at him. She halfway sits up, leaving on her elbows. "Damon, I—"

He can't bear this any longer. If he lets her live for another second, he'll lose his resolve. He'll give up and she'll learn what it means to be a monster.

* * *

So, back in reality, he raises the stake. And when Stefan knocks it out of his hand, bringing both of them back to what's really happening, and out of the dream, he says a silent _thank you_ to the universe for stopping him, even though he knows it was the moral thing to do. To save her soul.

(He erases the dream, because no one living can know he fucking has feelings or morals or whatever. And because Stefan could easily invade her mind and find out that stuff, and that just makes him too vulnerable. Thank God baby vampires have such easy-access minds...)

But she's alive now, and she hates him. And he doesn't blame her. His true intentions can't be revealed; she probably wouldn't understand, she's too young and too full of life. Soon, she might understand, and by then she'll resent him for _not_ doing it, but he cannot win this with her. His only hope was to save her soul. But now that she's alive…

Maybe one day she'll save his instead.

He can't hope to get his innocence back, but maybe she can help him with his humanity. The one thing he misses the most. And it's too much to ask of her, this girl that he destroyed, this girl that he exposed to such a horrible world. But he'll ask it anyway, because he's Damon Salvatore and he does things that he shouldn't, and Caroline is an easy girl to want but harder to love, though maybe he does both just a little bit.

He can't save her, because she's not experienced enough to want to be saved (later, she'll wish she had been) and she wants to live in this twisted way of what she thinks of as living. (She doesn't know better yet.)

But perhaps she can save him while she's trying to keep moving forward. Maybe she can scrub the dark parts of his soul away, free the humanity out of him underneath the layers of darkness. Maybe she can take away the stains in his soul while his stupid actions add stains on to hers. He's destroyed her, but while she's still here he'll take all that he can get from her.

He's just that selfish.

* * *

A/N: Wow, that was actually rather short for me. That's kind of a nice change! :) But at the same time, I feel I should have written more, especially since I've been thinking about this fic for so long. And, um, hello, it's hardly over a thousand words. Not up to my usual standards! But I shall settle. :D

Please think about leaving a review! Thanks and have a great day.


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